A Little Bit Stronger Than A 9 Year Old Girl
by SquintSquad183
Summary: "Hotch I was a twelve year old prodigy in a Las Vegas public high school. You kick like a nine year old girl." When Hotch knocked Reid around when trying to arrest Dowd, he had no idea the damage it could, and would, cause.


**I'm poor, I don't own Criminal Minds. **

**Just something I thought of when watching LDSK and thought about doing. **

**Warning :: Possible Character Death. Possible. Maybe, maybe not. I haven't decided yet. MWA HA HA  
**

* * *

Reid sat on the floor, listening to Hotch talk to Dowd, and had to keep reminding himself that the goal was to get the gun from around Hotch's foot. How? He had no clue yet. There was no way he could do it here without being seen. Hotch must have something planned. He listened for any words that could help, maybe some sort of clue as to what Hotch wanted him to do, but so far it seemed like there was nothing. He kept his attention focused on Hotch as he spoke again.

"Can I ask you a favor?"

"You could ask." was the arrogant response of Dowd.

"I figure my chances of getting out of here alive are pretty slim,"

"So?"

"I wanna beat the snot out of this kid. He's made my life miserable for three lousy years."

"Knock yourself out" came the satisfied agreement from the former ranger. Next thing he knew, Hotch was slamming Reid to the ground.

Then Hotch started kicking. Each blow brought crushing pain, pain that made his eyes water and slammed every wisp of air from his lungs. He barely had a sense of mind to fumble his fingers for the gun around Hotch's ankle. He pulled the strap and struggled to pull the gun from Hotch's leg, which was still slamming into his chest and stomach. As Hotch gave a final kick that slammed into his ribs, a small sound, barely audible, escaped Reid, it was a small squeak as an unbelievable pain shot through him. He heard Hotch saying something, but he didn't hear it, everything seemed to be distorted, as if he was underwater as he gulped air. The gun in his hand, he curled in on his chest. He didn't even realize he had tucked the gun to it until he realized that that second was the only one in which he could get a clean shot at Dowd.

The pain dulled as a burst of adrenaline rushed through him and he forced himself to turn quickly. The shot rang out as Dowd fell to the ground. Hotch helped him to his feet, and although the adrenaline was still in his system, he still had to grind his teeth together to keep from making a sound. As he stood the pain let up ever so much, and he could almost forget about it. The next fifteen minutes were a blur. He was surrounded by people rushing by, loud voices all around as he forced himself to breathe. Each breath sent stabbing pains through his torso.

He was checked out by a paramedic, who told him it was most likely bruised, and he rejected all further attempts for help, when Hotch came to speak to him.

"You alright?" he asked, and Reid heard the genuine concern in his superior's voice. He nodded. "Nice shot." Hotch said. He allowed the corners of his mouth to rise.

"I was aiming for his leg." he was joking, but he wasn't exactly a joker so he couldn't be sure if Hotch got it. He assumed so.

"Well I wouldn't have kept kicking, but I was afraid you wouldn't get my plan so.."

"I got your plan the moment you moved the hostages out of my line of fire." he lied. To be honest he hadn't been sure for a second, but he knew that Hotch wouldn't say what he said without a reason, and it all snapped together.

"Well.. I hope I didn't hurt you too badly."

"Hotch I was a twelve year old prodigy in a Las Vegas public high school. You kick like a nine year old girl." he said with a laugh that sent a spire of pain that blurred his vision for a moment. _A very strong nine year old girl.. _he added in his head. Remembering, he held Hotch's gun out to return to him. To his surprise, Hotch refused.

"No, keep it. As far as I'm concerned you passed your qualification." He left after that, and rather than wondering where he was going, Reid forced himself to stand up and go looking for the rest of the team. He saw Morgan and tossed the whistle to him and kept walking without a word, subconsciously rubbing his rib as he made his way to the SUV. The more the adrenaline wore off, the more it hurt. He ground his teeth and told him to toughen up. It was probably just bruising.

* * *

Before he got on the jet he went into the bathroom at the police department. Raising his shirt he surveyed the large purple and black bruises. He experimentally touched his finger to one and recoiled instantly. He washed his face and left the bathroom, hurrying to follow Gideon to the car that would give them a ride to the airport. The ride was a bumpy one, and he made sure to keep his gasps of pain as quiet as possible. Morgan heard one once, and asked if he was okay. He almost admitted to his pain when he saw the guilty look on Hotch's face and denied it.

* * *

Once on the jet, Reid made sure to sit as straight as possible, as that seemed to help the pain slightly. He was settling himself down for a long plane ride of looking out the window when Gideon moved to sit across from him. "How you doing?" he asked as he slid into the seat. He turned his head and looked up at his mentor.

"You were right, you don't need a gun to kill somebody." He said after a second.

"No you don't." Gideon replied as he leaned back.

"But it helps." It was a lame attempt at a joke, but it couldn't seem funny under the circumstances, and he made sure not to laugh again, not wanting to aggravate the pain.

"Yes. It does." Gideon said, as if it was the only thing he could think to say.

"I know I should feel bad about... what happened. I mean.. I killed a man. You know, I-I should... feel something. But I don't." He said quietly, almost afraid of the reaction. Was it normal? He had no clue. There weren't statistics as to how one should feel after killing someone for the first time. First time. Did that mean he expected to shoot someone again?

"Not knowing what you're feeling... That's not the same as not feeling anything." Spencer sighed, and pressed his lips into a hard line. Gideon spoke again. "This is gonna hit you, and when it does, there's only three facts you need to know. You did what you had to do, and a lot of good people are alive because of what you did." he ended there, as if there wasn't anything else.

"What's the third?" he couldn't help himself from asking.

"I'm proud of you." Reid had never had those words spoken to him before. Ever. And at them he felt a rush of.. affection? That didn't seem to be the right word for it. Gratitude? There was no proper word for it.

Time passed, as he turned to watch out the window. He watched the lights from distant cities passed beneath them. Oh how he wanted to sleep. He knew he couldn't. Not only was his side paining him even more, he was afraid. Afraid that if his eyes closed, he would watch Dowd's eyes go glassy and fall to the ground over and over again. And other scenario's would run through his head of how he could have stopped him without killing him. Not to mention the regular nightmares. He was scared. His eyes moved to Gideon for a half second, who was staring blankly across the seats. He thought about telling him about his fear, but he didn't, for more fear of potential embarrassment. Minutes later, Gideon moved to the couch. Not too long after, Morgan took his spot.

"You okay?"

"I kinda wish people would stop asking me that." he said with a touch of exasperation coloring his voice.

"Yeah well, get used to it kid."

"I also wish people would stop calling me kid."

"Tough. So I'll ask again. You okay?"

_"Yes _Morgan. I'm fine. Happy?"

"Not really."

"Well what would make you happy?"

"You telling me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong." he insisted.

"Have you forgotten who you're talking to?" he asked with a playful smile. "So what's up?"

"Nothing."

"Whatever. When you're ready to talk about it.. let me know." He started to get up.

"Hey Morgan?"

"Yeah Reid?"

"I uh... I.. Never mind.. I'll tell you later.."

"Are you sure Reid?"

"Yes. I'm sure. I'll talk to you once we get back to Quantico."

"Alright.." he said as he got up and moved back to his old seat, although he gave a cautious look at Reid, his eyes full of concern.

The rest of the plane ride passed in silence for Spencer. There was some chatter between the agents, a particularly odd phone call between Morgan and Garcia, but other than that Reid just focused on taking deep slow breaths despite the pain. It didn't seem to be getting worse, but it wasn't getting any better, that's for sure. He knew his first stop when he got back was to get to a drug store and get some ice packs and some Excedrin.

* * *

It wasn't until it was time to get off that it seemed to get worse. When he stood up, he could barely force himself to pick up his light satchel without spazzing. When he started walking toward the steps, it went from a dull, and occasional sharp spikes of pain, to frequent and even more painful stabs of pain every few seconds with each step. As his foot touched the first step, the dizziness made him miss the step by several inches. He was barely aware that he was stumbling down the rest of them as his eyes watered with the agony. When he was almost at the bottom, he managed the sense of mind to throw his hand out and grab for the railing. His body was thrown against the metal bar and he leaped back with a yelp of pain. When he regained the ability to focus, he looked up. He realized he had been the last out of the plane, and that a

group of five FBI agents staring at him, concern dominating their features.

"Jesus.. Reid are you okay?" Morgan asked, taking a wary step forward, confused on if he should offer to help or back away slowly, as Reid had the look of a wounded animal ready to snap.

It took him several minutes to regain his conscious ability to control his words, and when he did, his voice was shaky. "Uhm... yeah.. I'm fine.. I'm just sore.." But something wasn't right. As the group started walking he tried to follow, but with each step his breathing was becoming shallower and shallower, as if he had been running and was out of breath. He felt himself stumbling and soon he was several feet behind the group. His vision was blurring, and he couldn't see straight. He was gasping for each breath, but he didn't seem to actually be getting any air. He felt his heart racing, as he began to panic. Okay, he couldn't pretend to be fine anymore. He tried to call out, but the group was still moving away from him. He couldn't form the words. His steps slowed to a stagger. In seconds he had dropped to his knees. "H..otch..." he gasped, but no one seemed to hear. His arms reached out blindly as he sought for anything to help him up. Adding to the blur, his vision was going black around the edges. "G..Gideon..." he choked as he felt his body hit the pavement.

'G..Gideon.." Gideon heard the voice calling his name, and it didn't sound right, it was more of a gasp. He almost didn't hear it, it was so quiet and shallow, so scared and desperate he wheeled around as quickly as he could. To his horror he saw Reid laying on the ground on his side, arms clutching over his chest and his breathing fast and ragged.

"Oh my God!" he exclaimed and ran toward the young man, rolling him over. Adding to his shock, there was blood dripping out of the side of Reid's mouth. He was kicking himself. He should have realized Reid wasn't okay.. Now that he thought about it, he could remember every gasp, wince, cringe, and flinch since the incident. In hindsight it was oh so obvious. He wiped the blood off the kid's face and was trying to figure out what was wrong while still being comforting. "Reid.. C'mon don't close your eyes.. c'mon Reid..." By this time Morgan was kneeling inches from Reid's head, looking worried and afraid. If he was bad, Hotch was worse. Hotch didn't look like he could decide if he felt guilty, shocked, or horrified. He just stood a few inches away staring. Gideon laid his hand palm down on Reid's chest. That was a mistake. Giving a loud squeak of pain, Reid flinched and tried to worm away.

"Chest... h.. hurts.." he gasped "C..Can't.. b.. breathe.." His words were barely audible as his limbs were fraught with shaking and trembles. He tried to move but couldn't, it hurt so much.. Reid just wished he could black out, let it all go away, but he seemed to have no such luck. Morgan slid his arms beneath Reid's shoulders, trying to help him sit up, maybe help him get some air. Reid gave another squeak and tried to yank away, which made him gave a pained moan. Morgan flinched.

"Sorry.. sorry kid. I won't do that again.." he assured, wiping the blood away that was now trickling out of Reid's nose. "C'mon Reid, try to get in a deep breath here!.." Morgan literally begged. He felt the tense muscle in Reid's shoulders start to loosen. "Hey, no kid no! You have to stay awake. Cmon Reid, stay with me." He could hear JJ calling 911 just behind him, and Elle running off to lead the ambulances to the runway, where Spencer Reid lay, barely breathing and getting weaker every second. "Cmon, take a deep breath, you gotta stay awake."

"No.. can't... hurts.." he was gulping for air now, and each one seemed to tax his body more. Everything hurt.. so much.. he couldn't remember a time when he'd hurt this much. Everything was distorted again, as if he was underwater. Morgan was saying something.. so was Gideon.. Gideon.. Gideon was proud of him. Proud of _him. _Not of his accomplishment, but of him. He gave a soft smile. He felt the pain ebbing as his consciousness faded. Gideon.. the one person who was proud of him. His head dropped to the pavement and rolled to the side as he blissfully blacked out, a single word escaping his lips. _"Gideon.." _

"Hey... Reid! Reid!" Gideon yelped, jerking the kid's face roughly in an attempt to wake him up. He could hear the sirens coming closer and closer, but he tuned them out, trying desperately to get the kid who was as good as his son to wake up. "Reid.. C'mon!" he said more aggressively now.

"Reid? Reid? Reid! Answer me." This time it wasn't Gideon. It was Hotch, who was kneeling beside Gideon. His fingers slid to Reid's neck. Instead of the pulse that should be there, he felt only debilitating silence. There was nothing to feel. His heart wasn't beating. Hotch heard the yelling before he realized it was him. " "We need a medic! Someone get an ambulance!" he realized the kid was dying and it was his fault. "We need a medic!" he pressed his fingers sharper against Reid's neck, trying desperately to feel for any trace of a pulse, no matter how weak. Anything. "C'mon.. Reid please.. please.." he was begging now. His own chest actually hurt as he realized that he had done this. "We need a medic!"

Finally, the ambulances were there. It was decided without words that Gideon would ride along and the rest would meet up at the hospital. Hotch and Morgan were sprinting toward the SUV's that were waiting, and although Morgan was typically faster, it was Hotch who reached the car first slamming into the drivers seat. Morgan got in the car seconds later.

"Hotch.. man.. this isn't your fault." he said as the car burst from the parking lot, Hotch's distressed look somewhat frightening.

"Morgan, 24 hours ago he was fine. I kicked him, now his heart's not beating. Tell me it isn't my fault."

In the ambulance, Gideon was plastering himself against the side of the equipment so the EMTs could work easier. He watched the heart monitor, willing the flat line to spike. He prayed, he begged, and watched. He listened to the EMTs shouting at each other over the sirens and equipments.

"Something's not right, I can't get him breathing. It's gotta be his lungs."

"You're right. We're not going to be able to stabilize him here. Let's just hope we can get him to a hospital in time." Gideon's heart sank to his stomach as he leaned to sit.

"Cmon Reid.. hold on.. just a little bit longer.." he whispered. Seconds later the ambulance opened, and he heard them rushing Reid to the OR. He followed the gurney as far as hospital staff would allow, until he was ushered to a waiting room, where the team joined him moments later.

"All I know is they think it has something to do with his lungs.." he left out the fact that he'd been without a heartbeat for more than five minutes now.

What happened next was to be expected of any nervous group of family and friends. They were all on edge. Hotch was pacing anxiously back and forth until sweat literally dripped from him. Gideon was leaning against a wall, as if he was afraid his legs wouldn't fully support him if he tried to stand. JJ was holding Elle's hand as they quietly assured each other halfheartedly that Reid would be okay, and that soon they'd hear some weird statistic of lung problems. Morgan looked like he was ready to hit something... or someone. He occasionally cursed under his breath and muttered a string of unintelligible concerns. Four hours and no word, he finally grabbed Hotch's shoulder.

"Hotch.. do you think we need to.. inform the family?" he asked haltingly, as if he was afraid to actually say it.

"Reid's going to be fine." he said with a voice that sounded more like he was trying to convince himself rather than Morgan. He refused to let Reid be Dowd's last victim. He sucked in breath as he realized... it wouldn't be Dowd's victim.. it would be his. He had kicked Reid.. harder than he probably had thought..

"We might have to Hotch... it's been four hours.. I don't think that's-" he was cut off by a man in scrubs that had blood on the bottom hems and a mask around his chin walked in. Hotch and Gideon stood closest to him, and towered over the surgeon, who stood 5'5'' at the most. Morgan like to have felt his heart stop when he saw Hotch's face spasm, and Gideon gasp.

Hotch felt all the breath sucked out of his body as the surgeon uttered five words. Five words that seemed to crush him from the inside out.

"We did everything we could..."

* * *

**Please? I beg of you to reveiw. I would be your bestest friend ever. **


End file.
